soccer shoes, soccer socks, and losing my everlovin' mind

Sometimes my life is like a bad sitcom. I'm not even kidding.

Remember the sitcoms where the situations were so over exaggerated that they weren't the least bit believable? I know. Ever watch Crash Test Mommy? It's really like that sometimes. You think that there's no way that someone could be so frazzled with a houseful of kids, and then have a contractor show up out of nowhere to paint a room.

I bet it happens all the time.

I remember watching an episode of Full House once where the two uncles were left alone with the kids for the first time, and when Danny comes back in there are clothes, bibs and receiving blankets tossed all about the living room and Joey and Jesse are sitting there, exhausted, with baby Michelle.

Let's pretend that I had to look up this reference, and that I don't just know this stuff.

Danny comes in, and can't believe his eyes. After all, how can two grown men not look after one baby without this kind of mess. Jesse stands up and says "Your baby's a pig."

I now have four little kids who wait for me to clean a room and then leave it so that they can mess it up again. I firmly believe that they don't like messing up an already messy room. Just like no baby likes to poop in a dirty diaper.

Tonight, we're eating dinner. There are only five cookies left. This has nothing to do with me eating a few while coking dinner, because I wouldn't do that. We tell the kids that they can't eat a cookie unless they finish their supper.

The way the kids approach dinner you'd think I was serving them live squid, but no. It was chicken, whipped potatoes and salad. Not exactly weirdass exotic cuisine.

Jordan and Tennyson eat their dinners like champs, and polish off the remaining carrot sticks in the middle of the table. Tennyson would eat the arm off one of his sisters for a bite of cookie. Elliot and Mitchell suck at supper. Their approach is to wait until breakfast. They like breakfast. Mitchell begrudgingly eats his chicken and potatoes (gasp) after I tell him he can leave the salad (by salad I mean lettuce and dressing, I've already left off all of the even more exotic foods). Elliot runs around the kitchen being goofy and relying on her cuteness to get her that cookie after all is said and done. She's not getting the cookie. Whatever.

Finally, supper is over and the dishes are close to done, and I tell the kids to get their shoes and head for the van.

Jordan says: I have no shoes.
I reply: What do you mean you have no shoes?
Jordan: You made me take them to school.

Giant giant giant sigh.

Tiffany: Yes, you wear your shoes to school.

This is something we've been over before.

Jordan: But I left them there.
Tiffany: (somewhat more than annoyed): Yes, but you have a pair there and a pair for home.
Jordan: I wore my flip flops home.
Tiffany: Okay, remember at the beginning of the year I bought you two pairs of shoes?
Jordan: (nods)
Tiffany: And one was for at school, and the other pair is for wearing to school so that when you get to school you can change into your school shoes, and at the end of the day you wear your first pair of shoes home again?
Jordan: (nods)
Tiffany: Well? Where are your shoes?
Jordan: I lost the other ones.

Deep breathing, deep breathing, deep breathing, trying not to go more postal than usual.

This wouldn't aggravate me so much if the teacher hadn't already written in her agenda a hundred (insert satisfying curse word here) times that Jordan needs two pairs of shoes. Each time, Jordan says "Okay!" and runs and grabs her shoes and sticks them in her backpack and takes them to school. Turns out she was wearing her flip flops to get here there and she had her one pair of shoes that she wore while she was there, for phys. ed, and from time to time she wore them home and then wore her flip flops back the next day, and that's when I'd get the super fun note in her agenda that she needs two pairs of shoes. Little did I know. I thought she was sticking them in her backpack because she wanted to wear her flip flops to school and that she already had another pair there, but that she needed the outdoor pair for outdoor gym.

Boy am I dumb.

And pissed.

So guess who didn't get to go to soccer. Commence much  much wailing.

"But I wanna go to soccer!"
"But you can't go to soccer BECAUSE YOU DON'T HAVE ANY SHOES!"

Of course at this point I say (or yell, whatever) that she obviously can't wear crocks to play soccer.

"Can't I borrow Tennysons?"

Uh, yeah. Because wearing runners three sizes too small would be awesome.

At this point we haul the two younger kids out of the van, who are already crying because Daddy has smacked their bums for playing in the folded up camper. Apparently I'm not supposed to let them do that. Into the house they come, bawling, passing Jordan who is also bawling and trying to fight her way around me to get out the door and race to the van to go to soccer with Steven and Tennyson. Luckily, for now, I am bigger and stronger and able to turn her around and head her back to her room.

Then Steven comes to the door. I hand him a bag of something I am supposed to sell to someone who is going to meet me at the gas station for the trade off. He wants to stand there and hug (nobody in this bloody family can go anywhere, ever, without hugging. I'm not even kidding. Try taking out the garbage sometime and you'll see). I turn him around and head him toward the van. The two younger kids are still bawling, thinking that they're going to go with Daddy. But no. Mommy is mean. He leaves. Two minutes later he phones back to say he's forgotten the soccer socks we're supposed to lend someone at soccer and is coming back.

You couldn't make this stuff up. Some days are so ridiculous. In the meantime the buyer of my gently used goods called back to say they couldn't make the meet today, so at least that was cancelled.

Now Elliot, Mitchell and Jordan are outside playing, and I'm debating leaving them outside for a few minutes more to savor this quiet, all the while knowing that I'm only prolonging the inevitable.

Where are Joey and Jesse when I need them?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

some random sunday stuff

gymnastics

camping stories from me to my kids